


The Light the Heat

by c00kie



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, F/M, Food, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00kie/pseuds/c00kie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A  story about two people who despite distance, time and various other obstacles, manage to fall in love all the same. Chef AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boston

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Summary: Leslie meets Ben on an airplane and starts her pastry apprenticeship and Ben commits emotional infidelity and hates John Cusack.  
> A/N: Title comes from Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes. Written for [ Trope Bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) The trope used in this case was food porn.  
> Beta: Ashisfriendly, who is an amazing and beautiful sea turtle. She's supported this idea from the very beginning and has been there every step of the way. None of this would have been done without her. Also I am aware that in a deleted scene Ben claims to be allergic to shellfish. I have chosen to ignore it.

“Flight 223 to Boston is now boarding rows twenty through thirty.” The airline attendant calls out over the terminal’s intercom. Leslie quickly grabs her ticket out of her purse, double checking to make sure she has her book and snacks for the flight. When she stands up she looks over at her mother, who’s making eyes at a grey haired man in a suit.

Leslie rolls her eyes. “Mom.”

Marlene smiles at Leslie. “Yes, dear? Oh you’re leaving!” she stands up to give Leslie a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Sure you can!” Marlene places both her hands on Leslie’s shoulders. “You inherited your father’s talent, you’re going to do great at your apprenticeship. Besides it’s only six months and you’ll be home before you know it.”

Leslie throws her arms around her mother. “Thanks. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Marlene says, “Now go, knock them dead.”

Leslie smells coffee as she steps over the tiny gap between the tunnel and the plane. She smiles at the flight attendant who wishes her a nice flight and follows the long line of passengers as they put away their belongings and take their seats. Every step she takes feels like one step closer to her future, one step closer to fulfilling her father’s legacy of being a pastry chef. When she gets to hers, a window seat she specially requested, there’s a man in the aisle seat next to hers with his eyes closed. She taps him on the shoulder and his eyes open with a start.

“I’m sorry, but that’s my seat,” she says, pointing.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, moving his legs so she can get in. After fastening her seat belt and pulling out her biography of Alice Waters, she looks back at the man next to her, only to see he has his headphones on and his eyes are closed again. There’s something familiar about him, but she can’t place where she’s seen him before. When the pilot states they’re getting ready for take off, she takes two pieces of gum out of her purse and offers one to her seat mate.

“It’ll help pop your ears.”

“Thanks,” he says, popping the piece of Juicy Fruit into his mouth. Then he presses play on his Discman and closes his eyes again.

Finding his behavior to be very rude, she sighs and opens her book, angrily chewing on her gum as the plane ascends into the air.

One hour into the flight, the guy is drooling on her shoulder and she’s nearly done with her book. He stirs, as if he’s going to wake up, but all he does is moan and try to get closer to her. When the attendant comes to ask what beverage they want, she answers coffee for both of them figuring he looks like a guy who drinks coffee. She manages to put down their tray tables without waking up, which probably has more to do with him than her. 

It’s the smell of the coffee that finally gets the man to wake up. At first he doesn’t move, but she can tell his eyes are open and that he’s focusing on his surroundings. And then he jumps up like he’s been shot in the foot. His knee hits his tray table, knocking his coffee over.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” He says as the hot brown liquid drips onto his pants. The same flight attendant who wished her a nice flight rushes over with paper towels and a trash bag and starts cleaning up the mess as he gets out of his seat to go clean up in the restroom. Leslie can’t help but turn in her seat to watch him as he rushes down the aisle.

She also can’t help but notice that he has really nice butt.

Okay, so maybe the rest of him isn’t so bad either. And maybe she let him sleep on her shoulder because he’s cute, but none of that gives him any right to be a dick. 

When he comes back he looks at Leslie like it’s her fault he’s a complete failure of a human being, so she pretends to be engrossed with her book. Out of the corner of Leslie’s eye she watches as he changes the CD in his Discman, but he doesn’t put his headphones back on. Instead he just fidgets in his seat and keeps glancing at her like he wants to say something. She does her best to ignore him, reaching inside her bag for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Is that peanut butter and jelly?”

It’s the first coherent thing he’s said to her. “Yes.”

“Oh. I uh, forgot to pack any food.”

It’s on the tip of Leslie’s tongue to tell him to get a bag of pretzels from the attendant, but he looks so pathetic (and cute) that she finds herself offering him half.

“Thanks,” he says, taking the offered piece. He eats it quickly, making sure none of the jelly falls out. Then he digs into the backpack he has underneath the seat in front of him and pulls out a bottle of water, drinking half of it before replacing the cap and putting it back.

It’s then that the plane jolts and his large hand grabs hers, squeezing hard. Two thoughts come to Leslie’s mind, almost simultaneously. The first is that he’s afraid of flying and that explains his behavior, and the second is that his hand is warm and soft and feels really good. But he quickly pulls away, clutching the arm rests instead even though they’re out of the pocket of turbulence and everything is calm again.

“Are you o-”

“I’m not afraid of flying!” He blurts out, loud enough to make several of the other passengers to turn and stare at him until he blushes and looks at her. His eyes are a deep brown, like warm brownies and she feels another jolt that belongs to her and her alone. “I’m not. I don’t even know why I grabbed your hand. I’m sorry.”

Despite her reservations about the guy, and she still has plenty, Leslie finds herself smiling and saying, “It’s okay. I should have woken you up when you fell asleep on me.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Yeah, why didn’t you?”

She shrugs, hoping it make her look more casual than she feels. “You looked peaceful.”

It’s probably the wrong thing to say judging by the look he gives her as he digs out his water bottle. She shrugs again. “I mean-”

“I have a girlfriend.”

Leslie ignores the way her stomach drops and instead lies. “Me too! I mean I have a boyfriend. I I just meant that I know how hard flying can be for people, and did I mention I have a boyfriend too? Because I really do.”

He replaces the cap on his bottle but doesn’t put it back into the bag. “Ah.”

Leslie can tell he doesn’t believe her. “I do!” She uses the first name she can think of, that of Pawnee’s own celebrity, “Pete Disellio!” Leslie really hopes he doesn’t know who he is.

He laughs. “Okay, okay, I believe you. I was just teasing you.”

Leslie really hopes that emotion she’s feeling is relief. “Oh. Oh.”

“I’m Ben, by the way.”

Everything clicks together in Leslie’s mind like pieces of a puzzle as she remembers where she knows him from. She suppresses the urge to gush at _the_ Benji Wyatt, ex boy mayor and source of many of her seventeen year old fantasies. “Leslie. So what are you listening to?”

“Oh um, uh, it’s just a CD I made.” He sputters, like it’s something he’s embarrassed by, which only makes Leslie that more curious.

She jumps excitedly in her seat. “Oh, what’s on it? Can I listen?”

Ben looks at her skeptically. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I made it when I was eighteen and it’s really awful.”

“I’ll give you a cookie. It’s home made.”

“I’m not sure that’s a fair trade. Wait, did you say homemade?”

“I did.” Leslie grins, pulling the Ziploc bag out of her purse and wiggling it in front of his face. “Peanut butter chocolate chip. I won first place at the Sweetum’s Bakeoff Extravaganza for these.”

“You had me at cookies.” Ben says, grabbing the bag out of her hand to take one. She watches in anticipation as he takes a bite. Chocolate drips on his bottom lip, and all she can think is how she wants to lean over and lick it off.

“Wow.”

“See? I told you they were good. Now hand over those headphones.”

He stares at her with a mouth full of cookie, but eventually relents and gives her the headphones. She puts them on and hears Mariah Carey’s “Always Be My Baby” while he grabs two more cookies from the bag. She reaches over and grabs the player out of his lap. He makes a sound of protest before throwing his hands up in the air in surrender and slumping in his seat, resigned. She listens while he eats her cookies, as if eating them will make up for his obvious embarrassment. It’s mostly early 90’s R&B and hip hop, the kind of music that an eighteen year old white male would like.

“I told you, it’s awful,” Ben says, putting his head in his hands.

“It’s not that bad.”

When the plane lands, they go to baggage claim together and then to the taxi stand. He’s nice enough to hail her cab first and to wish her a nice time. A part of her wants to see him again, but the saner part knows that it probably won’t happen and even if it did, nothing would come of it since he has a girlfriend and he believes she’s taken as well.

Naturally, she sees him again two days later. She has a couple days before her apprenticeship starts, so she’s been spending it walking the Freedom Trail and visiting all of the museums and historical sites. Today though she’s at one of the many Dunkin Donuts reading “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” while she drinks coffee and eats a cherry filled donut. She just happens to look up to see him sit down and unfold a copy of the newspaper to the sports page.

For a minute she debates going to say hello, but changes her mind. Just because they had a good time on the plane doesn’t mean he wants to talk to her. No, she’s going to eat the whipped cream off her coffee and find out why Snape has it in for Harry and then she’s going to go visit Paul Revere’s house.

Ben thwarts her plan though, by not only noticing her and giving her a little wave, but by walking over.

“What part are you on?”

He’s just as cute as she remembers, dressed in plaid, his hair slightly tousled. “They just fought the troll.”

“Oh yeah, that part’s great.” Ben gestures the chair across from her. “May I?”

Leslie gestures back that it’s fine, because what other choice does she have? He sits and his eyes fall to her coffee. “Is that all whipped cream or is there any actual coffee in here?”

“Don’t judge me.”

He hold up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it. So how you like Boston so far?”

“Oh, I love it!” she sets her book down, mentally noting the page she was on before she starts gushing about the city. “I walked the freedom trail yesterday and visited the Old North Church and the Ellen Swallow Richards residence. She was the first woman to graduate from MIT.” She’s aware she’s babbling, but she can’t seem to shut up. The strange part though is unlike most people who get annoyed when Leslie starts getting overly passionate, Ben doesn’t tell her to shut up or ignore her. If anything he looks interested. Fond, even.

“Did you go to Paul Revere’s house yet?”

“I’m going to today, after I finish this donut,” she says, holding the cherry filled up.

“Great. You’ll like it.” He looks at his watch, “shit I have to go. It was good to see you, Leslie.”

“It was good to see you too.”

Leslie watches Ben as he starts to walk away, because he really does have a cute butt and there’s no crime in looking, but then he turns around. “Oh by the way, next time you’re here get the eclair.”

“I will.” She promises, his smile making her stomach do flips.

The day Leslie starts her apprenticeship, she can’t stop her hands from shaking. The maître pâtissier is a pot bellied grizzled man named Julian who could probably break her with one hand.

He’s also the meanest man in the world.

Okay, there are probably men who are meaner, like Stalin or Hitler, but Julian could certainly give them a run for their money. On the first day of meeting her tutor, he deems her Louise and refuses to call her anything else even after she tries to correct him.

Then he throws a huge chunk of dough at her.

“Cut this four equal pieces, roll them out into rectangles, cut them again into eight strips the same width and make pin wheels.”

“Yes, Chef.”

She’s nearly done with her assignment when he comes behind her and breathes over her neck. “No, this is terrible. How are you my apprentice? My brother’s two year old could do better than this and he’s not even potty trained!” He gathers the dough, pounds it back into one ball, drops it on the counter. “Do it again. This time, don’t fuck it up.”

Julian visits her several times a day, each time declaring her a disgrace and making her start over. At the end of the day, he comes back, looks at her attempt and sighs. “This is terrible, Louise-”

“Leslie.”

“You will keep doing it until you get it right. Go home, be back here at three am sharp or you’re fired.”

She leaves as quickly as possible and heads back to the tiny apartment she’s subletting, takes a shower and then falls into bed.

A month later she hasn’t seen Ben. She doesn’t think much of it, figuring Boston is large or he’s left. That and she’s so tired and busy with her apprenticeship that she barely has time to think about herself, let alone some cute guy she met on an airplane. But then one night she’s walking home after a long day of being yelled at by Julian when she sees him coming toward her. She’s suddenly aware of how she looks, hair plastered to her head with sweat, her clothes covered in flour, cocoa powder and god knows what else. All she wants to do is take off her uniform, take a shower and then sleep for the next year, and not be bombarded with all the nervous emotion she feels around Ben. But there’s no alley she can duck into, nowhere she can hide. All she can do is brace herself.

“Leslie.” At least he sounds as surprised to see her.

“Ben.”

His eyes graze down to her chest. “Please tell me that’s flour and not cocaine.”

Leslie quickly looks at her flour covered chest and sighs. “Oh, yeah, it’s flour. There was an incident at work.”

“You work at the flour factory?”

She laughs. “No, Saint Paul’s. I’m doing my pastry apprenticeship there.”

Ben steps back, as if she slapped him.“You’re.. you’re a pastry chef?”

“Apprentice.” She says, wondering why he’s being so weird.

“Wow. That’s...wow. You know I should have suspected something with those cookies... You don’t have any more do you?”

“Sorry.” She really is. She could use one right about now.

Ben lets out a mock sigh. “Damn.”

“I can make you more.” Leslie says, unable to stop herself from making the offer.

There’s that fond look again. “Wow. You’d do that?”

“Yes?” She’s pretty sure her voice squeaks. “Sure, why not?” It’s just a friendly gesture. People make food for their friends all the time. And Ben is the closest thing to a friend she has in this city.

They exchange numbers and Ben tells her to have a goodnight. She goes up to her apartment and takes that shower she’s desperately craving.

Unfortunately her schedule doesn’t allow her any free time for the next week and a half and when it comes down to it, the last thing she wants to do is bake on her day off. But still, a promise a promise, so she finds herself at the grocery store, throwing a bag of chocolate chips into a basket along with the other ingredients for her famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies and a few staples for herself, like whipped cream and waffle mix.

Her phone rings while she’s in the checkout line. Julian’s thick accent is loud in her ear.

“There’s an emergency, you need to get down here now!”

Leslie doesn’t get a chance to ask what the emergency is as Julian hangs up right after giving the order. So she pays for her things and walks the three blocks back to her flat where while she’s changing her phone rings again.

“Why aren’t you here?”

“I had to go home and change.”

“I don’t care, if you’re not here within the next five minutes you’re fired!”

She runs to the restaurant, making it there in eight minutes. Julian stands in front of her, point to the clock on the wall. “You are lucky I am desperate tonight. Now put on an apron and make three vanilla cakes.” 

All Leslie can do is put on her apron and do as her mentor instructs. She follows his recipe for the batter, pours the mix into three equal sized cake pans and puts them into the oven. While they bake, Julian has her make the frosting and slice what feels like a million strawberries. It’s Julian who takes the cakes out of the oven and flips them out of the pans.

“They’re adequate.”

“Thanks!” She knows adequate is probably the best compliment she’s ever going to get from him so she’s going to milk it for all it’s worth.

“When they cool stack them and frost them. Then place the strawberries on them in even, concentric circles. In the meantime do inventory.” He hands her a clipboard with a list of every ingredient the restaurant carries. “Check everything, write down how much we have and the expiration dates. If anything is past date or close to it, throw it out and make a separate list for those items.”

It takes Leslie until three am to complete the inventory and finish the cakes and while she actually has a lot of fun, by the time she’s done she feels like she’s going to fall asleep where she stands. She’s almost sure Julian would make her stay longer if it weren’t for his wife calling demanding he come home.

She follows him out of the building and waits while he locks up. “Was there really an emergency?”

Julian could give Ebenezer Scrooge a run for his money. “I’ll see you at nine am.”

This pattern repeats itself for the next month. Even on her day off Julian manages to find excuses to bring her in. It’s a special kind of hell, challenging yet rewarding. Ben’s cookies are all but forgotten in Leslie’s exhaustion.

She’s actually home, watching a Modern Marvel’s episode on candy when he calls her.

“Hey, Leslie.”

“Hey, Ben! I’m so sorry, I haven’t had a chance to make those cookies for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I was actually calling to see what you’re doing this weekend.”

Leslie freezes.

“Leslie?”

“Sorry, I’m here. What..what do you need?”

“I need someone to go to Salem with me. I have a friend who recommended a restaurant there and I don’t want to go alone and I thought who better than Leslie Knope.”

She swallows the lump in her throat. “What about your girlfriend?”

“Um, she’s busy. If you’re worried I can assure you this isn’t romantic.”

Actually she hadn’t thought about that, but now she definitely is. But if he says it’s not then she’ll believe him. “Fine, I’ll go. I’ve always wanted to visit Salem and I actually do have  
this weekend off.” Through a minor miracle, she adds silently.

\-----

After being impeached as mayor of his small town when he’s eighteen, Ben’s father tells him to get out of politics. “Become a doctor or a teacher or a chef, whatever you want, just get out of this game while you still can, Benny.”

It’s only after another few weeks of staring at his bedroom ceiling and listening to the town yell obscenities at him through the window that he admits his dad was right. He could spend the rest of his life making up for his mistake in the hopes that he’d be able to prove he was responsible enough to run again, or he can bow out and play a different game.

He goes to culinary school because he’s decent enough at cooking and it’s something he enjoys. Two years later, he moves to Boston and gets a job doing grunt work at an Italian restaurant owned by the wife of an incarcerated mobster who likes to pat him on his face and call him boy.

He goes back to Minnesota when his brother gets married. He spends most of his time watching romantic comedies with his little sister and Henry’s fiance while the three of them put together the bouquets. When he opens his mouth to spout on how unrealistic they are, they slap him on his head and tell him to shut up.

“It’s romantic,” Stephanie says, rolling her eyes at her brother’s stupidity.

“It’s creepy,” Ben retorts, wondering not for the first time why he’s on flower duty when he could be with his brother and the other guys, watching the game at the bar.

Ben Wyatt doesn’t believe in love at first sight. He doesn’t believe in fate or serendipity or any other word made up by Hollywood to sell John Cusack movies. And by association, he doesn’t like John Cusack, mostly because of the ideal it gives women, an ideal that’s impossible to live up to.

“I mean, it’s not like I met Megan and knew right then she was the one.”

“That’s because she’s not.” Stephanie says, receiving a nod of agreement from Pam while she ties pink ribbons around flower stems. “Don’t worry,” she says, putting her arm around him. “Someday you’re going to meet your soulmate.”

Soulmate? That’s even worse than love at first sight.

Three days later, he meets Leslie Knope and he suddenly sympathizes with John Cusack because as soon as he opens his eyes and sees her standing over him, he feels like tiny fireworks are exploding in his stomach.

He reacts like any sane twenty two year old man would, by panicking and making an ass out of himself. He does his best to ignore the way she smells like honeysuckle by closing his eyes and listening to REM, but not even Michael Stipe can stop him from falling asleep. When he wakes up on her shoulder, all he can think about his how soft her skin is. 

Then he remembers Megan and flips out, knocking over the coffee she’s ordered him.

He spends most of the time in the bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror telling himself to get it together. When he mentions Megan, it’s not to reject her, but as a reminder to himself of why he can’t be attracted to Leslie.

It takes him all the control he has not to kiss her when he takes his first bite of her peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. He doesn’t even like peanut butter cookies but they’re so soft, with just enough crunch to give them texture and they practically melt in his mouth. So yeah, he lets her listen to his CD while he consumes her cookies and tries to picture Megan, in his head. He likes Megan. She’s pretty and self assured, and Stephanie might be right about her not being the one, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t committed. In any case he isn’t about to throw it away for some girl he met on an airplane, no matter how cute she is or how good her cookies are.

That night he takes Megan out to dinner and listens to her stories and smiles at all the right moments and then they go home where she tells him she’s too tired for sex and he doesn’t even mind.

When he jerks off in the shower, it’s not Megan or some hot celebrity he thinks about. It’s Leslie. The worst part is that it’s not even sexual. He just thinks about what it would be like to touch her soft blonde hair and and he’s done, spent and leaning against the tile feeling relaxed and guilty all at once.

The first time he runs into Leslie, he manages to convince himself that it’s just a fluke. Sure, Boston’s a big city, but people run into each other all the time. It’s nothing to freak out over.

The second time, he does freak out. Not because he thinks running into him is some sort of cosmic sign, but because he finds out what she does for a living.  
She’s a freaking pastry chef.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say he’s a chef too, but then she’s offering to make him some of those cookies and his brain stops.

He doesn’t hear from her though. A part of him is glad, because the less he thinks about Leslie Knope, the better.  
Naturally, he thinks about her all the time.

One night his friend Mike comes over for dinner. Ben makes Chicken Marsala while Mike and Megan joke around in a manner that should concern him but even as he watches the way she blushes and how his eyes never leave her, he finds that he really doesn’t care.

“Oh hey!” Mike says, coming over to the bar that separates the kitchen and the living room, “I found a restaurant in Salem you need to try. They have the best scallop risotto.”  
Mike’s a food critic for an independent magazine, so Ben trusts his judgment. He looks over at Megan. “ I have Saturday off, what do you say, you wanna go?”

She sighs. “I can’t, we have a big exhibit at the museum coming up, this is my only night off. Remember, I told you?”

Ben doesn’t remember her telling him anything, but he smiles and nods. “Right, that’s right. Sorry.”

That night Ben dreams about his high school crush, Cindy Miller. Cindy was the homecoming queen, the class treasurer, voted best smile. She was eighteen year old Ben’s perfect ten. And she was the last girl to ever make Ben feel like butterflies were fluttering in his stomach.

Until Leslie. Not even Megan, for all her classic beauty, makes Ben feel this way. The dream shifts and he’s back on that plane with Leslie, the light from outside making her hair glow, her eyes a clear blue that he thinks he could stare into forever and it’d be okay.

“I think I’m still going to up to Salem,” he says to Megan over breakfast.

She doesn’t even look up from her cellphone as she eats her Special K. “Okay.”

It’s during work that he thinks he should invite Leslie to Salem. She likes food and history and it’d be a good chance to get to know her, not as a potential romance, but as a friend.

His hands shake as he dials her number. She sounds tired when she answers, but happy to hear from him, which makes his heart jump in his chest.  
Just friends, he tells himself and her.

Just friends.

It’s a cool morning when he picks Leslie up. She’s sitting on her front porch stoop, wrapped up in a red sweater that does amazing things for her, reading a book on the history of Salem. There’s no place to park, so Ben pulls over as much as he can to get out of the road. She smiles when she sees him and jumps up, running to her side and getting in.

“Hi.”

He swallows. “Hi.”

He mentally repeats his mantra about just wanting to be friends with Leslie, but the fact is he wants to lean in and kiss her lips, find out if they’re really as soft as they look. “So uh, my friend is a food critic, he recommended this place we’re going to, but I thought we could also walk around the town, take a proper tour of the sights.”

“Oh,”-Leslie smiles-”That sounds great.”

It only takes a little over thirty minutes to drive from Boston to Salem. Each one of them feels like an eternity. They don’t speak apart from when Leslie asks what his favorite cheese is.

“Cheddar?” He guesses.

“Mine too!”

And they lapse back into silence after that until they see the sign saying Salem is only ten miles away.

“Oh thank god,” she says under her breath.

“I know,” Ben can’t help but agree, “Sorry this is so weird.”

“It’s not weird.”- He raises his eyebrow and she slumps.- “Okay, it’s weird.” She laughs and it’s so infectious that he joins in, the ropes of tension unraveling.

Ben expects to walk into the restaurant and be bombarded with witch paraphernalia like every other place in Salem, but instead they’re greeted by a maitre d’ wearing a waistcoat, white cloths over the tables lit by romantic candle light and Frank Sinatra’s ‘World on a String’ playing over the speakers.

Leslie gives him a funny look as they’re seated in a cozy corner booth. He tries to apologize with a look of his own.

Their waiter comes by within a minute, introducing himself as “Paul” before offering them a glass of the house wine, which Leslie says yes to.

“A beer, please,” Ben says and the waiter walks away to let them look over their menus, which are just two pieces of paper with the daily selection written on one side and the drink menu on the other. The scallop risotto Mike described isn’t there, but it takes him less than a minute to decide what he’s going to order instead. He sets his menu down and watches as Leslie eyes the menu with a cute frown.

No, it’s not cute.

“Is something wrong?” Ben asks.

“No.”

“Oh okay.” He traces his finger through the condensation on the table from his water before glancing back up at her.

It’s just the candlelight but he could swear that she’s glowing. This time he doesn’t ignore or argue with the voice inside him saying she’s beautiful.

“That sweater’s pretty.”

This time when she looks at him she smiles. “Thank you.” She puts her menu down and the waiter returns with their beverages.

“What may I get for you today?” Paul asks, taking out his notebook and pen, grinning flirtatiously at Leslie. Ben side eyes him, pushing down his jealousy as he repeats his mantra.

“I’ll have the crab cakes benedict,” Leslie says, handing her menu to Paul. “Oh and a cup of lobster bisque.”

“And you sir?”

“I’ll have the Ahi tuna tacos.” Ben hands over his menu, noting how Paul still hasn’t taken his eyes off Leslie.

“Excellent choice. I will be right back with your bisque, madame.”

“Wow,” Leslie says as he walks away, “I’ve never been called madame before.”

He can’t help but tease her. “I don’t know, I kind of like Madame Knope.”

“Haha,” she says, “my mother’s a much better Madame Knope than I am. I’m just...”

“Just what?” _Amazing, wonderful, perfect._

She doesn’t reply as the waiter brings a basket of rolls and butter along with Leslie’s soup. It’s not until she tears off a piece of bread, dunks it into her soup and takes a bite that she answers his question.

“All my life I’ve wanted to be a pastry chef, because my dad was one before he died and so was his mother, but when I went to school I double majored in culinary arts and history because I also wanted to please my mother, you know?”

Ben can completely understand wanting to please both parents. “Yeah,” he agrees, spreading butter over his roll. “I know.” 

She blows on her soup before taking another bite. “And now I’m here and I don’t think I have what it takes. Maybe I should quit and move back to Pawnee and get a job at city hall.”

Ben takes a sip of his beer, raising his eyebrow over the glass. “Is that what you want to do?” he asks, setting the glass down on the coaster.

“I like helping people,” she says with some defiance.

He swallows, takes another sip of beer. “But you like this more.”

Leslie nods, just once. “I’m sorry for unloading on you like this.”

“Leslie, it’s fine.” He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “When I was eighteen I was-”

“I know.”

Ben blinks several times, confused and shocked. “You know? How?” She gives him a look and he slumps. Of course she knows. “Why didn’t you say something?”

She shrugs, dunking another piece of bread. “I didn’t think it was my place.”

Ben can’t help but feel grateful at her discretion. “Thanks. Anyway, I get it. A part of me wishes I had the courage to stick it out and maybe run for office again someday. Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking, I just-”

“You cook?”

Oh that’s right, he hasn’t told her what he does yet. “Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Lucinda’s. I just graduated two years ago so I’m still doing grunt work mostly, but I just started running the lunch shift, so that’s cool.”

“Wow.” She lets out a breath. “I had no idea we had so much in common.”

Ben, who has been trying hard to ignore that very thing, changes the subject. “How’s the bisque?”

“Amazing,” she answers, “do you want a bite?”

“Sure,” he says, taking his spoon and dipping it into the liquid, making sure to get a bite of lobster.

“Be careful,” she warns, “it’s still really hot.”

“Got it,” Ben nods, blowing softly on the bisque before putting the spoon in his mouth. It’s creamy and flavorful, with just the right amount of spice to kick up the sweetness of the lobster. He puts his spoon down. “Wow, that’s great.”

Leslie smiles, and pushes the saucer toward him. “You finish it. I just saw the dessert tray walk by and I want to save room.”

Ben gladly accepts the soup, finishing it off just in time for Paul to return with their food.

Like the lobster bisque, his ahi tuna tacos are nothing to scoff at. The corn shells are hot and soft, the slaw crisp and creamy, the tuna seared on the outside but still cool on the inside. They eat quietly, enjoying their food and Dean Martin’s voice, along with each other’s company. They trade bites and laughs, bond over food and the business.

It’s into his third taco that Ben realizes this is a date. He can pretend it’s not all he wants, but it’s a date whether he wants it to be or not. The problem though is he does want it to be a real date and instead of feeling guilty because he’s walking the line of cheating on Megan, he just feels sad because he wants to hold Leslie’s hand, pull her close and wrap his arms around her.

He’s going to hang himself when he gets home.

Okay, maybe nothing that drastic.

After dessert of chocolate cake and lemon cheesecake, they split the bill at Leslie’s insistence and then they go to walk around the town. Ben’s never been a huge fan of Salem, thinking it’s far too hokey for it’s tragic history, and every tour he’s ever been on has been a disaster in terms of accuracy. However as they walk around, Leslie talks about the history of Salem with passion and actual expertise. They visit Nathaniel Hawthorne's’ house where they get into an argument over “The Scarlett Letter.”

“How can you not like it?”

“Because it’s boring and preachy?” Ben says, laughing at Leslie’s glare of indigence.

“Yeah well your face is...” She stops mid sentence, as if she was about to say something she didn’t want to.

He steps closer to her. “My face is what?”

Her eyes meet his and he feels like he’s drowning in blue. “Nice, okay? Your face is nice.”

“Les-”

She pushes him out of the way. “I need air,” she says, rushing away. He looks up at the ceiling, takes a deep breath and then goes to find her.

She’s sitting on a bench outside, staring at something in the distance. He sits next to her and for a few minutes they don’t say anything. He’s about to apologize when she finally speaks.

“I think about you all the time. I know I shouldn’t especially since you’re with someone, but I do. And today has been one of the best, most romantic days of my life.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know it was going to be so romantic. But Leslie, you’re with someone too.”

A laugh escapes her. “No, I’m not. I lied about that so you didn’t think I was some loser girl with a stupid crush on the boy who fell asleep on her on an airplane.”

Okay, maybe hanging himself isn’t such a bad idea after all. “I don’t think that.”

She smiles softly. “Thanks.”

Ben leans his head against the wall behind him. “This sucks.” And really, what else is there to say? He stands up, offering his hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”

If this was a real date, he would have walked her up to her door and kissed her goodnight. She would have invited him up for coffee and he would have kissed every inch of her. But it’s not a real date. So instead he drops her off and wishes her good night, waits until she’s safely inside and goes home.

He doesn’t see or hear from Leslie until Christmas, when he receives a package at his door containing a tin full of a variety of cookies and a letter.

“Dear Ben,” it reads, “I hope you don’t mind I looked up your address. Here are the cookies I promised you. I’m moving after the New Year, so you won’t have to worry about bumping into me. Thank you for your friendship, Leslie.”

He balls the letter in his fist and tosses it into the trashcan.


	2. Washington DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet again in Washington, DC.

**1984: Pawnee, Indiana.**   


She can see the crack of lightning in the sky as she rides her bike down the street, counting the seconds before the thunder. Eight seconds. The sky lights up again, and again, Leslie counts. Five seconds. It’s not raining yet, but the sky is heavy and dark with thick clouds, only lit by the flashes of electricity.  


She’s barely made it to two when thunder rolls through her and the sky opens up, rain pouring down, not in tiny drops, but in sheets. Leslie screeches her bike to a halt, but the ground is already too slick. She steers to the side, crashes into a muddy patch of grass.  


For the first time in her life, Leslie curses.  


Immediately she feels guilty for it, looks around to make sure no one is around to hear her. Relieved she hasn’t been caught, Leslie picks herself and her bike up and runs the rest of the way home. When she sees her house she runs even faster, dropping her bike in the driveway beside her dad’s blue Buick and makes a beeline to the front door.  


“Stop right there, young lady!” Her mother’s voice makes Leslie stop in her tracks. “You’re soaking wet, you’re going to get water all over. Wait right there.”  


Leslie nods, shaking from the cold. Her mom disappears but it’s her father who comes first with a large fluffy towel he wraps around Leslie like a cocoon.  


“I’m sorry, daddy.”  


Her dad only smiles and strokes Leslie’s hair out of her face. “Leslie, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Sudden thunderstorms are an unfortunate part of life and we all get caught in them at least once.”  


“Even you?”  


“Even me. Even your mom.”  


“Oh.” Leslie has a hard time believing her mom’s ever been caught in the rain.  


“But you know what you do when that happens?”  


Leslie shakes her head no and sniffs.  


“You eat a brownie. So how ‘bout you go upstairs and take a hot bath and then we’ll make some of my fudgetacular brownies?”  


Leslie wipes her nose and nods her agreement as her father kisses her head and ushers her up the stairs where her mother already has a bath ready. The water is hot, but not too hot, and smells like strawberry bubble bath. She plays with bubbles, washes herself with a cloth and then rinses her hair out using a Notre Dame cup. Then she dresses in the clothes her mom placed on the counter and skips down the stairs to find her parents in the kitchen, sitting at the table and holding hands, talking so softly that Leslie can’t hear.  


Her dad looks tired, but when he sees her he smiles and rises. “Okay!” He claps his hands. “Brownie time!”  


“Are you sure you’re fine, Bob?”  


“I’m sure, Marlene.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and kisses her forehead. “Don’t worry.”  


Her lips form a straight line. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it.”  


“Alright, Les, I need you to get the eggs out of the fridge. I will get the rest.”  


Leslie does as instructed, setting the carton of eggs next to the other ingredients on the counter. She steps on the stool, beside her dad and watches as he chops up some chocolate. She steals a piece, frowning at the bitterness. “Are you sure that’s chocolate?”  


“I’m sure,” he assures her. “Oh I forgot, we need to turn the oven on and grease a pan. Leslie, you get the small glass pan and a pot.”  


She hops off her stool and goes to retrieve the pan and small pot from underneath all the other pots and pans in the cabinet and returns to her father, who greases the pan with some oil. She can see from the light on the stove that the oven is heating to the proper temperature. He takes the pot from her and puts it on the stove, turning the burner on a low flame and adding a stick of butter. She rests her head on her dad’s thin shoulder and watches the butter soften.  


“Now, Leslie I want you to pay attention to what I’m doing.”  


“Yes, daddy.”  


He takes the softened butter and adds the butter into a bowl. “Crack an egg please.”  


Leslie cracks the egg carefully and he opens it over the bowl. “Another.” They repeat the process, then he gives her the bottle of vanilla extract. She pours into the bowl until he tells her to stop, followed by a cup of sugar. He moves the bowl to her and hands her a whisk. She beats the ingredients carefully while he holds the bowl until he begins to cough.  


He turns away, bending down as he coughs. Leslie hops off her stool and runs to get him a glass of water. He drinks it slowly. “Thank you, Leslie,” he says, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the forehead.  


“You shouldn’t be doing this, Bob,” Marlene says from the doorway.  


“This is important.”  


Leslie doesn’t see her mom’s face, but her father’s words are enough to make her leave, although she does warn him to be careful.  


“Now where were we?” he asks. “Oh that’s right, now it’s time for the dry ingredients. Do you remember what they are?”  


“Cocoa, flour, chocolate,” Leslie counts with her fingers as her dad measures and adds each ingredient to the bowl with the butter and sugar as she lists them, “and I don’t remember.”  


“Salt and baking powder.”  


“Oh. Why would you put salt in brownies?”  


“Well, Leslie, salt makes all the ingredients taste better. It makes the cocoa richer, the sugar sweeter.”  


Leslie’s still not convinced, but if her dad says it, then it must be true.  


He allows her to stir everything together and then they pour the batter into the pan and place it in the hot oven.  


“Spoon or bowl?” he asks.  


“Bowl.” As if there’s any other answer. She takes the bowl, dipping her finger into the stray batter and licking it off while her dad takes a few licks of the spoon, declaring it to be satisfactory. When they’re done, they wash the dishes and her dad kisses her again on the forehead and tells her to go watch Scooby Doo until the brownies are ready. 

**Washington DC, 2002.**

Leslie steps off her plane, saying “you too,” to the flight attendant who wishes her a nice day and follows the signs to the Metro, pulling her luggage behind her as she weaves through the crowded airport. Her stomach rumbles and she pulls out her last brownie from her purse and takes a bite. It’s good, but she’s never quite been able to make it as perfect as her dad. She buys a ticket for the etro, goes through the gates and waits for the red line to arrive. When it does she sits next to an old woman knitting a pink and yellow scarf with shaking hands. Leslie reads until her stop is called, then she gathers her belongings and exits. Her stop is four blocks from her hotel so she walks, pulling her heavy suitcase behind her, occasionally stopping to shift her purse on her shoulder.

After checking in, she goes up to her room and collapses on her bed and sleeps until hunger wakes her. She showers, changes clothes and goes to ask the concierge where she can find a good waffle this time of night.  
“There is an all night diner a few blocks east of here,” the woman, Julia, answers, “Just go out the exit, take a right and go up two blocks before turning left. Follow the loud music and the kids with tattoos and piercings and you can’t miss it.”  


Leslie frowns. “Is it any good?”  


“Not particularly. But that’s the closest place to find waffles at this time of night.”  


“Thanks.”  


“If you’re looking for a good place to eat that’s close, I would recommend the Lamb’s Head. It’s just around the corner. I eat there every night after my shift.”  


Leslie smiles at Julia. “Thank you.”  


Julia, it turns out, is right. The Lamb’s Head is small and crowded, full of people from all walks of life, artists and businessmen, families, couples and single people, all whom seem to be enjoying their food and conversation. She’s seated in a corner table and as soon as she opens her menu, a bus boy comes to fill her water glass and then walks away to clean up a nearby table. She looks around the restaurant while she waits for her server. The atmosphere is lively, with nearly every seat full and a live folk band playing on a small stage near the front. She doesn’t recognize any of their songs, but most of the audience does, judging by the way they’re singing along.  


“Good evening, ma’am. I’m Teddy and it is my absolute pleasure to be your server tonight. Would you care for a sweet iced tea or a glass of chardonnay?”  


She looks up and is startled by bright green eyes and curly red hair. “Oh. Hello, Teddy. I’ll have the cheapest red wine you have.”  


He smiles, showing a row of straight white teeth. “Excellent. I will be right back.”  


She studies the menu while he’s gone. It’s not a big menu, but it is an eclectic one, with items that seem to be either taken from or inspired by various cultures. Unfortunately waffles are nowhere to be found. When Teddy returns with her wine, she asks what he suggests.  


“Our most popular dish is the seared scallops, but I prefer the braised lamb chops.” Leslie’s not fond of lamb, so she orders the scallops and drinks her wine and reads _Appetite for Love: the Biography of Julia Child_ by Noël Riley Fitch until her food comes out.  


The scallops are good, but overcooked. The risotto they’re served on is rich and creamy though, and is almost enough to fill Leslie on it’s own. When she’s done, Teddy returns to ask if she wants a piece of blackberry pie or lemon cake. She chooses the lemon cake, but after one bite she knows she could do better.  


The next day she has breakfast at a restaurant her Zagat guide claims to have the best waffles. They don’t compare to JJ’s, but they’re still good and they’re served with large quantities of whipped cream so she can’t really complain.  


After breakfast, she tours the White House and feels a certain nostalgia for a time long ago when she wanted to be the first woman president, before her father died and she decided that if she couldn’t have him, she could at least have his desserts.  


Or at least close approximations.  


She takes in the tour guides words, even though she already knows most of what he’s saying already, having read and re-read all of her books regarding the White House and the presidency.  


After she’s done and has managed to capture a glimpse of someone she is pretty sure is President Bush’s speechwriter, Michael Gerson, but it could just be an intern, she turns her phone back on to find she has one from Lindsay asking how to make caramel cake and to call her, and one from her mother. She calls her mother back to reassure her that she’s fine, then calls Lindsay back and tells her the recipe while she walks toward the National Mall.  


“So, how is DC?” Lindsay asks, “How’s DC? Meet anyone cute?”  


“No, I haven’t seen Joe Biden yet,” Leslie answers, “but when I do? Mmmm.”  


Lindsay laughs, rich and haughty. “I need to talk to you about something.”  


“Okay?” Leslie sits down at an empty bench for a moment. “What’s wrong? Is JJ okay? Do you need help with a recipe? Do I need to come-”  


“The Eagleton Country Club offered me a job, Leslie.”  


Leslie’s really glad she sat down. “The Eagleton Country Club? But that’s in Eagleton!”  


“It’s a head chef-”  


“Lindsay-”  


“I know, Leslie,” Lindsay says, “but you turned it down and now they’re offering it to me.”  


She clutches her phone. It’s true, the Eagleton Country Club did offer her the position, but working in Eagleton sends cold chills down Leslie’s spine. “Are you taking it?”  


“I’m thinking about it.” If Lindsay’s thinking about it, that probably means she’s going to do it.  


“Okay. Well let me know.”  


“I will.”  


Leslie says her goodbyes, hangs up and goes to visit the Jefferson Memorial.  


The next day she goes to the zoo, where she spends most of her time watching two penguins walk around the ice together, their fins touching as if they can’t bear to be apart.  


She wonders if she’ll ever find her penguin.  


That night she ends up eating at the Lamb’s Head again. This time she orders the chicken pot pie and it’s far better than the scallops from the previous night. The crust is golden brown and flaky, the inside rich and full of tender chicken, vegetables and a thick gravy. She skips dessert and instead gets a waffle sundae from a street vendor and eats it while watching the sun set on the river.  


The next day after breakfast and spending four hours wandering around the Smithsonian, Leslie hops on the subway to go to her next eating destination. She takes a seat and looks around the car at the other passengers. There’s a girl wearing a pink jacket with spikes on the collar reading a magazine, a man rapping along with the music blasting out of his headphones, a group of Hispanic teenagers laughing at one of their friends, and across from her is a guy, his head down and asleep. His brown hair is long, falling flat on his head and curling around his ears. His red plaid shirt is open showing his tee shirt and he has on black chefs pants and non skid shoes. She finds herself staring, caught up in the familiarity. He shifts in his seat and her heart thumps against her chest, and her stomach aches.  


The train stops and he looks up and behind him, as if looking to see if it’s his stop and then he looks at her.  


And he keeps looking.  


And she keeps staring back.  


The train grinds to a halt and Ben stands up, grabbing his backpack and walking off the train without a word. Leslie jumps up and runs after him, trying to find him in the sea of people. Eventually she spots him walking toward the escalators and follows him up to the street.  


“Ben! BEN!”  


He stops, but he doesn’t turn around so she can’t see his face. She runs around him and smiles. “Hi.”  


His expression is blank, but she thinks she can see a spark of emotion in his eyes. “Uh,hey.”  


“Leslie?” she says, in case he doesn’t remember her, “Knope? From Boston? We-”  


He rolls his eyes slightly. “I know who you are, Leslie.”  


“Great,” Leslie smiles to try to hide her nervousness. “So, small world huh?”  


Ben crosses his arms over his chest. “I guess,” he says with a half hearted shrug.  


“What are you doing here? Do you live here? Do work here? Do you want to get something to eat? Catch up?”  


“I don’t think so.”  


She wants to scream in frustration. Five years have done absolutely nothing to improve Ben’s attitude. If anything he’s more of a jerk than he was back then. Now he’s just a super jerk.  


“Fine. It was nice seeing you.” Leslie spins on her heels and starts to walk back to the station. She doesn’t care how cute he is, she’s done with this.  


“I saw your segment on _Great Chefs!_ ” he yells after her and this time she does throw her hands up and stomps back to him.  


“What the hell is your problem?”  


“My problem? Oh I don’t know, how about you left with just a note and some cookies and now you’re acting like we should just pick up where we left off which was, if I remember correctly, you telling me you liked me and then skipping town!”  


“You had a girlfriend!” she yells back, “and you liked me too! Don’t stand there and act like I’m some old stalker of yours.”  


“I moved on.”  


“Awesome! Me too.”  


Realizing they’re yelling in the middle of the busy sidewalk and the passer bys are either trying to get away or watching them like they’re street performers, Leslie looks down and tries to calm herself. “You’re an ass.”  


“I know.” She can hear the smile in his voice. “I really did like your segment.”  


“Thank you.”  


The silence that follows is thick like a winter’s fog, and she’s not sure what she should say to break it. He runs his fingers through his hair and she thinks maybe he’s just as nervous as she is, but his eyes never leave hers and they still remind her of her father’s brownies.  


“Um,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets, “what are you doing?”  


Leslie rolls her eyes. If Ben really thinks he can just start over he’s seriously mistaken. “Why? I thought you weren’t interested.”  


“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not. Have a nice-”  


“Oh for craps, sake,” Leslie cuts him off, “Do you ever get tired of being a jerk? How about you pull that stick out of your ass and try being nice for once. Hi, I’m Leslie, we knew each other in Boston, I’m going to Ricardo’s for lunch, do you want to join me?”  


He doesn’t smile, but his face softens. “You don’t want to eat there, trust me. But I know a great place not too far from here if you’d like to go? They have awesome tacos.”  


“How awesome?”  


This time he does smile and even though she’s still somewhat mad, she wants to grab him and kiss his face off. “Really awesome,” he says, “I just need to call my roommate and tell him I can’t make lunch.”  


She nods and waits while he pulls out his phone.  


“Hey, Teddy, I gotta cancel. Something came up.” Leslie tries not to eavesdrop or smile but it’s impossible because well, she’s standing next to Ben and he’s cute and is cancelling lunch with his friend for her. Now she really wants to kiss his face.  


“I’m not keeping you from anything important am I?” she asks when he hangs up.  


“Believe me, you’re a welcome departure from listening to my roommate talk about the cute blonde who’s been eating at his work for the past two nights.”  


The puzzle pieces all form together to create a full picture. “You said his name is Teddy right?”  


“Yeah?”  


“Does he work at the Lamb’s Head?”  


Ben gets a look on his face like he knows where this is going. “Yeah?”  


She raises her hand. “Cute blonde. Nice to meet you.”  


He looks up and closes his eyes, lamenting about how this is his life before meeting her eyes again. “I can call him back if you want. We can meet for lunch and you two can-”  


“I don’t want to have lunch with Teddy.” Teddy, as good looking as he is, doesn’t hold a candle to Ben. No one does.  


It’s not a mystery why she keeps getting dumped. How is she supposed to really love someone when the person she’s really in love with is now smiling at her like she’s the sun?  


The restaurant is located in a basement below a brownstone apartment. “The owners live upstairs,” Ben tells her as a guy who calls Ben by his first name seats them, “I help out in the kitchen sometimes.”  


“Oh. So you live here?”  


“Yeah, about two years now. You?”  


“Visiting. I live in Pawnee.”  


He nods. “Cool.”  


She smiles back and looks at her menu. “So what’s good here?”  


“Order the chef’s special. Trust me.”  


Leslie orders the special, as does Ben along with two beers. When the beer arrives she takes a sip and then watches the condensation drip onto the table. “I hated that segment.”  


“Why?”  


“I didn’t get to make what I wanted.”  


Ben raises his eyebrow. “They told you what to make? Can they do that?”  


“No, they didn’t. I just, do you remember how told you my father was a pastry chef?”  


“Sure?”  


“Well, he made the best brownies. And I know it’s not the most glamorous dessert, but they were so good, rich and comforting and I...” She trails off, shaking her head because Ben doesn’t want to hear this. “I’m sorry.”  


“For what?”  


“Leaving.”  


Their food arrives then, three tacos, two enchiladas and two tamales. She unwraps the tamale and takes a bite, closing her eyes at the way the spices hit her tongue. “That’s really good.” She’s going to pretend like she didn’t just make this more awkward than it already is so help her.  


He sighs. “No, Les, you were right. I was in a relationship and it was unfair of me to blame everything on you.”  


This is crazy. They’re both acting like they committed a crime, when other than a very intense hug and a confession of feelings, they had done nothing wrong. It’s silly to be mad about it, especially five years later, so she smiles at him to show him that it’s okay and they can start again, and takes a bite of her taco.  


It’s probably a combination of her hunger and the quality of the food, but she eats like a woman starved. A small part of her worries that Ben might judge her for it, but when she looks at him he’s eating with just as much gusto. They don’t talk and while the silence would ordinarily drive her out of her mind, it feels welcome here.  


Their empty plates are taken away and Ben asks for the check and Leslie tries to push down her disappointment and not let it show too much.  


“So,” he says, giving their server his credit card before Leslie can even pull out her wallet and giving her a look that says don’t argue, “how long are you in town?”  


“My flight is in the morning.”  


“Oh. Well I hope you had a good time here.”  


She understands his words for the goodbye they are. In a moment he’s going to sign the credit card receipt and they will walk out and they will exchange an awkward hug and then they will go their separate ways. He’ll get his own show on the Food Network and marry a tall supermodel and Leslie will open her own restaurant in Pawnee and sometimes she will turn on his show and feel a pang for what could have been, but she got over him before, she can do it again.  


“Please don’t marry a Victoria’s Secret model.”  


Ben frowns at Leslie’s outburst. “What?”  


She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, you’re right. You can marry anyone you want.”  


He rubs his face and sighs, clicking the pen to sign the receipt when it’s brought back. “I forgot you’re crazy.”  


“I am not crazy.”  


He gets out of the booth, laughing as she follows him out of the restaurant. “Yeah, you are.”  


The sun is bright when they step out into the street, but as far as Leslie’s concerned, it should be raining. Rain, she thinks as Ben looks around awkwardly, would better suit her mood.  


“It was really good to see you again, Leslie.”  


This is it. Her heart drops into her stomach. “You too.” She hugs him, tries to ignore how good his arms feel around her and then steps back, keeping the smile on her face so he can’t see her heart breaking.  


He and his stupid supermodel wife are going to have the cutest babies.  


Without thinking, she gives into impulse and grabs his shirt. He stumbles forward as she pulls him down to her, their noses bumping and lips refusing to connect properly, and if this isn’t a great metaphor for their whole relationship she doesn’t know what is.  


One thing's for sure though, if this is the last time she gets to see Ben, she is not going to leave it that way. So she leans up and presses her lips against his and kisses him again, this time slow and without the painful nose bumpings.  


When they part, he’s looking at her with eyes that are dark and will forever remind her of her father’s perfect brownies and she opens her mouth but he just shakes his head and cups her face with his large hands and leans down.  
Leslie’s always heard of kisses being electric, but this is the first time she can honestly say she’s felt like she’s been struck by lightning, feeling it from her head to the tip of her toes.  


When they pull apart, he’s staring at her with so much intensity it makes her shiver. She only has time to take a breath before he’s lunging at her, his hands cupping her face and tangling in her hair, his lips sliding against hers until Leslie’s phone rings, pulling them back to reality.  


She looks at the caller id and sighs. “I have to take this.”  


“Okay.”  


“Don’t move.” She opens her phone. “Hi Lindsay.”  


“I took the job.”  


She closes her eyes. “That’s great! You’re going to be really great at it.” She keeps her voice chipper, but her actual disappointment must show because Ben takes her free hand and starts rubbing circles into her skin with his thumb. She smiles to show her gratitude and when she finally hangs up, she leans her head against his chest and tries to breathe while he rubs her back.  
It feels almost too intimate.  


“I’m sorry,” she says, wiping her eyes.  


“What happened?”  


“My best friend took a job in Eagleton,” she answers, her scorn dripping out with every word.  


“Oh. I’m uh not sure what I should say.”  


She lets out a breath. “It’s okay. I’m probably just worried for nothing. It’s a great job for her and she deserves it. Eagleton just has a way of changing people.”  


“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Ben says, “she’s your best friend right? Then you’ll be okay.”  


Leslie smiles again. “Thank you.”  


“So, I know we were about to say goodbye, but I’m kind of thinking that maybe we shouldn’t do that yet.”  


“Really?”  


He shrugs. “Well, I don’t want to presume anything, but I would like to uh, continue this somewhere else?” He smiles bashfully at her, “you know if that’s cool with you.”  


Understanding courses through her making her feel like she’s drank a whole bottle of tequila.  


"It’s cool with me.”  


“Great.”  


She wants to burst into a full Broadway style song and dance number titled, “I’m Going to Have Sex with Ben!” in the middle of the sidewalk.  


They sit with their legs pressed against each other, hands clasped on the train. She doesn’t dare look at him because if she does, she will kiss him and she knows that once she starts kissing him, she’s not going to stop. Instead she concentrates on how he smells like spices and sweat and the hair on his thin but firm arms.  


When they stop and he doesn’t make any effort to move, Leslie looks at him finally. “Isn’t this your stop?”  


“I was going to the bookstore,” he says, “but no. We’ve got a while.”  


Awhile? She has to wait awhile to strip him down and feel his skin against hers? Well, she’s waited five years, another twenty minutes probably won’t kill her.  


“Where do you live?”  


“Falls Church. It’s somewhat less expensive than the city.”

Leslie turns away and nods. That makes sense actually. Ben takes his hand off her and she feels the stabbing sense of loss but then he puts his arm around her shoulder and she scoots closer and rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes.  


“Leslie?” he says quietly a little while later, “We’re here.”  


She smiles at him, wide awake and ready to go. She walks beside him, hands laced together to his car.  


As soon as he turns on the ignition, everything becomes real. Until now, everything has felt like a dream, but now, in his car, the reality has set in. She’s going to have sex with a man she fell in love with five years ago and hasn’t seen since and may never see again.  


It all seems both so fantastic and unfair.  


She chooses to focus on the first thing.  


“We have to make a quick stop,” he says, pulling into a CVS parking lot. He parks, turns off the ignition and wordlessly she follows him inside and through the aisles to the back of the store where he grabs a box of condoms from the shelf, pivots, walks back and grabs a bottle of KY which makes her frown because just how much sex does Ben think they’re going to have and what kind?  


He sees her expression and stops. “Do we need to talk about this?”  


“No?” She’s not sure what this means.  


“I just figured better safe than sorry.”  


“No. I understand.”  


“I mean if you don’t think we’ll need it.”  


“I...” She’s had sex, some of it good, some of it not so good, but lubrication has never been an issue. “Don’t think so.”  


“Okay.” Ben puts the KY back on the shelf. “What about these?” He holds up the box of condoms. “Are these okay?”  
Leslie shrugs. She really just wants to pay for them and get out of there so they can use them. “They’re fine, Ben. Can we go?”  


“Sure,” Ben says, and then he starts to walk toward the checkout.  


The lady behind the check out gives them a slightly judgemental look as she rings him up and it’s on tip of Leslie’s tongue to tell the woman that it’s perfectly fine for a woman to have sex outside of marriage and that it doesn’t make her a bad person but then Ben grabs her hand and her words die before they can really even begin.  


“Here you go,” he says, opening her door to throw the bag on the floor board.  


“Thanks.”  


He leans down, gives her a quick kiss, and before she can even process what just happened, he’s in his seat, asking if she’s okay.  


Leslie can’t move though. Ben just kissed her as if it wasn’t a big deal, like they’ve already kissed each other a million times before and it’s just habit now.  


“Hey.”  


She doesn’t know when he came back, but his voice is soft and worried and when she looks into his eyes they’re concerned, but full of the one emotion she’s trying desperately not to put a name too.  


“You’re freaking out.”  


It’s ridiculous how well he knows her even after all this time. “Yeah? Well I’m not the one who just had a melt down in a CVS over lubricant.”  


“That wasn’t a meltdown.”  


Leslie rolls her eyes, pushing her own panic aside. “Admit you were scared.”  


“I wasn’t scared,” Ben says, with an eyeroll of his own, “I was nervous. It’s not the same thing.”  


Leslie laughs, leaning into Ben’s shoulder. “You’re really quoting _The Princess Bride?_ ”  


He wraps his arms around her. She’s wearing sneakers so she only comes to his shoulders. “I can also quote _Ghostbusters_ and the entire _Star Wars trilogy._ ”  


“You’re such a nerd,” she mutters into his shirt.  


“And what did you do today, Leslie?” His hands lightly graze her back drawing lines through the fabric.  


“I spent it at the Smithsonian,” she admits, wanting to feel his fingers on her skin, “but-”  


“No buts,” Ben says, his breath hot against her ear, “and really, I said a pretty obscure quote, you’re the one who recognized it.”  


Leslie shivers. “Whatever you say, nerd.”  


He kisses her temple and looks at her. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”  


She doesn’t want to cry, but she can feel the knot beginning to form in her chest. “There’s every reason.”  


This time he doesn’t argue with her. He just leans his head against hers and sighs. “Yeah. I know. It’s not too late to stop you know. We can get dinner and I can drive you back to your hotel and we can just pretend like this never happened.”  


“Is that what you want?” she asks, her voice shaking.  


“No.”  


It’s not the sex she’s scared of. The sex she can handle. It’s everything that’s going to come after.  


Does she really think she can have this one night and then leave the next morning and it not hurt?  


But one night is better than nothing, so she grabs the lapels of his shirt and pulls him down.  


Ben lives in an upstairs townhouse style apartment. The lights are off, indicating no one else is home which gives Leslie a sense of relief since she doesn’t want to deal with any awkward situations with Teddy the waiter slash roommate right now. He turns the hallway light on and closes the door behind her, latching the lock back into place before placing the sack and his keys on the table underneath the window. She’s about to ask where his bathroom is so she can call Ann, but then his hands circle around her waist and he’s trapping her between the door and his body and his lips are distractingly soft.  


He pulls on her bottom lip with his. “Hey.”  


“Hi.”  


He lifts her shirt over her head and starts kissing his way down her neck and across her chest. She closes her eyes, lost in the sensations as he kneels in front of her, touching and kissing her as if he’s worshipping her. When Ben stands she protests, but he just smiles and takes her hand with a soft, “Come on.”  


She notices he’s still holding her shirt with his other hand.

Ben’s bed room is clean, with a bed with blue sheets and a black comforter and a desk with a computer in the corner and a picture of Darth Vader on the wall. She opens her mouth to call him a nerd again but it’s swallowed by his mouth and the feel of his mattress as she lands on hit with a soft thud, Ben’s body covering hers.  


“You’re still dressed.” It seems grossly unfair.  


He smirks and sits up long enough to throw his shirts across the room. He’s skinny and taut and pale and she just wants to know what the hair on his chest feels against her breasts so she unsnaps her bra, pulls it off her arms and tosses it aside. Ben opens his mouth to say something, but she doesn’t let him, placing her hand on the back of his head and pulling him back down.

It’s not long before the kisses become uncoordinated, teeth clashing and lips tugging. She touches him everywhere she can reach, stroking her hands down his back and down to his butt, still unfortunately covered by his pants. Ben raises his eyebrow at her and just continues his onslaught of kisses, hot and wet on her breasts, his tongue and thumb rolling her nipples and making her come off the bed.  


He unsnaps the buttons of her jeans. “Lift,” he says, and she raises her hips and lets him pull them off. He tugs her socks off too, tossing them across the room where they land somewhere near his desk and soon she’s in nothing except her panties.  


“Minnie Mouse?”  


Leslie closes her eyes, embarrassed. “I went to Disney World last year.”  


“And so you bought Minnie Mouse underwear?”  


She throws her arms in the air. “Excuse you. It’s not like I knew this was going to happen.”  


Ben regards her for a moment, his face blank and then he steps off the bed and removes his pants, saying nothing.  


Leslie sits up, almost wanting to laugh because Ben’s Batman boxers are adorable, but really, the sight of his sexy elf body standing in front of her is too much. She moves closer to Ben so she can stroke his erection through his boxers. “Really?”  


Ben closes his eyes. “Mmm, yeah. I...”  


She decides to take pity on him. “Come on, Dark Knight. Show me what you can do.”

What Ben can do, it turns out, is nothing short of magical. He kisses down her body alternating with soft and hard lips until he reaches the hem of her panties. She lifts her hips for him to take them off, but he just passes them by and kisses her leg and then the other one, completely ignoring the place she needs him the most.  


“Ben.” She’s begging, but she doesn’t care. She just wants him to fuck her already.  


“Patience.”  


“I don’t have all night.”  


“Yeah you do.”  


He’s right. She does have all night. She only has tonight. Which is why she wants to get the party started already. With a grin, she pushes him over and starts her own attack, kissing and touching his shoulders and chest and down his stomach, and unlike Ben, she doesn’t ignore his cock, because unlike Ben, she’s not a jerk. She pulls his boxers off and smiles as Ben’s dick appears, and she wants it in her now, so she takes off her panties and tosses them aside, feeling the heat of his gaze as she tears open the condom wrapper and puts it on him. His hands hold her waist as she lowers herself down, closing her eyes at the delicious stretch.  


“Good lord.”  


She just hisses and rolls her hips, feeling him deep and against her back. He thrusts up into her, but she controls the pace.His hands squeeze her breasts and she has to close her eyes again.  
He sits up and she wraps her legs around him, rocking in his lap as they exchange uncoordinated kisses. She leans against him and rests her head on his shoulder. He strokes the ends of her hair.  


“Leslie.”  


She can hear the confession in his voice, the word she’s trying not to think because it’s so impossible. “Fuck me.”  


He presses her down, driving into her hard and fast and she opens her eyes, meeting his and she comes.  


“Fuck fuck, fuck,” he says, collapsing on her. There’s a moment of silence and then he kisses her softly before going to dispense the condom.  


She’s sleepy from endorphins but needs to pee and clean herself off, so as soon as Ben comes back, she brushes past him and goes into his bathroom.  


When she comes back, Ben’s turned the radio on and is sitting on his bed, tapping his fingers along and singing along to David Bowie’s, _Changes._ “Ch Ch Changes! turn and face the strain.” he’s not a good singer, but the sight makes Leslie smile nonetheless. He smiles back and gestures for her to come. She does, crawling into his lap and kissing the song off his lips while he strokes her with his fingers, pushing up inside and pumping until she crests and demands he fuck her again.  


“Turn around.”  


She does, getting on all fours but he just brings her back down into his lap. “Like this,” he says, hot and heavy in her ear. Leslie groans at the feeling, at Ben’s arm holding her close, his hand flat on her stomach, his chest against her back, his lips on her neck. “I thought about this, you know, after you left.”  


“Ben.”  


“For months, it was all I could think about. Being inside you, fucking you like this,” his hand lowers and begins to rub her clit. “making you so wet and full with my cock.”  


She whimpers in response. “I thought about it too.”  


“Yeah?” Ben thrusts harder, “It’s why we broke up.”  


“I’m sorry.” She is. That is the last thing she wanted.  


He turns her head, his eyes dark and hot as they stare into hers. “I’m not.”  


Leslie falls asleep after, dreaming of of her father’s laugh and rich chocolate brownies. When she wakes, rain is tapping at the window and Ben’s snoring beside her. “Ben?” she whispers in his ear.  


“Mmm.”  


“Do mind if I use your kitchen?” Since Ben’s a chef it’s highly likely that he will have all the ingredients, but chefs are notoriously possessive of their space and the last thing she wants to do is overstep her bounds.  


“Go ahead,” he mumbles into the pillow, falling back to sleep.  


She slips out the bed, puts her clothes back on and goes to his kitchen. It doesn’t take her too long to find the ingredients, he even has a bar of dark chocolate. She closes her eyes and tries to picture her father beside her, helping her as she chops the chocolate and mixes all the ingredients together.  


“What are you doing?” Ben asks, rubbing his eyes as he comes in.  


“Making brownies.”  


He says nothing, but he does open the fridge and pulls out a package of bacon, a stick of butter and a bag of what looks like homemade pasta.  


“What are you doing?”  


“Making carbonara.” He fills a pot with water and puts it on the stove, turning it on high.  


They work side by side, occasionally sharing a small kiss. Between the brownies that are now baking in his state of the art oven and the bacon, onions and garlic sauteing, Leslie’s so turned on that she wants to push Ben against the counter and have her way with him.  


So she does, kissing him hard.  


“Wow.” He grins, “I didn’t know this turned you on.”  


“Yes you did.”  


He just smirks. “Yeah, I did.” Then he kisses her again and gently puts her aside so he can put the pasta into the pot of rapidly boiling water.  


“I can’t believe you make your own pasta.”  


“We do it at the restaurant,” he says, “I just made extra so I could bring it home.  


She leans against the counter. “Do you like it here?”  


“It’s not too bad. I hate driving here, but it’s a good city to live in, and I like my job.”  


“I’m glad,” she says with sincerity.  


“And what about you, Les? You like where you are?” He pours the cream into the pan with the bacon, onions and garlic.  


“I am. JJ’s is great.” She moves out of his way while he drains the pasta, only to dump it into the pan where he stirs the pasta and the sauce together.  


They eat in the kitchen, sitting on the barstools at the counter that separates the kitchen and the living room. With just one bite, she can taste Ben’s talent. He’s not just some guy who found himself in a kitchen, he’s the real deal.  


When she tells him this, he blushes like she’s never seen him do before.  


“Oh. Thank you.”  


“I mean it.” Really she can’t get enough of it, “this is amazing.” He’s amazing.  


He smiles at her and reaches out, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to miss you.”  


“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”  


“We’re not,” he says, his finger stroking her cheek. “I just forgot how much I love you.”  


Her fork lands on her plate with a loud clang. “What?”  


He spins away and stuffs his mouth full of his pasta. Leslie just taps her toes, she can wait all night if she has to.  


“I didn’t mean to say that.”  


Leslie rolls her eyes. She figured that much. “But you did.” the timer for the brownies goes off and she stands, pointing her finger at him. 

“This conversation isn’t over.” After checking to make sure they’re really done, she pulls the brownies out and uses a butter knife to cut around the edges to make sure it hasn’t stuck to the pan. Then she turns off the oven and returns to her seat. She doesn’t say anything as they finish their dinner, waiting for the brownies to cool.  


“This isn’t how I wanted it to go,” he says, looking at his plate.  


“I don’t think any of this is how we wanted it to go.”  


He raises his head to look at her. “Do you regret it?”  


She gives a slight shake of her head. “Never. It’s just not ideal, is it?”  


Ben laughs, stabbing the last bit of his pasta with his fork. “No, it’s not.”  


After they finish they do the dishes together and then Leslie goes to cut the brownies, but all she can think about is Ben, saying he loves her and her father, who would have stolen the moon if she asked for it, and how for years she’s been chasing not just a taste, but a memory.  


Maybe she should just give it up.  


“He died around this time when I was ten,” she says, looking at the brownies even as Ben comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her. “I wanted to be a good daughter.”  


Ben turns her around and combs his fingers through her hair, his eyes soft and loving. “These are probably the best brownies I’ve ever had in my life.”  


“You haven’t had one, yet.”  


“Doesn’t matter. I know. They might not be exactly like how your dad used to make, but you made them and I know they’re incredible.”  


She watches him in awe as he cuts the brownies and takes one, biting into it. He closes his eyes and moans.  


“What?” she asks, reaching to try one herself, but Ben just puts his in the pan and grabs her hand, pulling her back to his bedroom where she loses herself in him.  


Ben’s flipping through the channels on the TV in Leslie’s motel room while she runs around throwing clothes and souvenirs into her suitcase. 

She looks at the clock, she has forty five minutes before she has to go but she feels like she’s forgetting something. She searches every room, checking under the bed and in each drawer, unsure of what she’s looking for but sure she’s going to find it eventually.  
In the end, she finds it behind the chair. “Ahah!”  


Ben frowns. “What is that?”  


“It’s a ceramic penguin!” She waves it in front of Ben’s face, “See? I got it at the zoo.”  


“Cute.”  


“It’s so cute.” She puts the penguin in the front pocket of her suitcase and then claps her hands. “Done. Do you think we should leave now? 

Since going through security is probably going to take-”  


His fingers circle her wrist, pulling her down to him and she still has to check out so there’s really no time, but Ben’s mouth tastes like strawberries and his hands feel so good and being with him one more time won’t kill her.  


Without speaking they undress and grab each other, touching and kissing like they know it’s going to be the last time.  


In a perfect world, it would be unhurried. They would take their time, explore each other’s bodies and find out what makes them tick.  


In a perfect world, they could be together.  


But life isn’t perfect, so the sex is frantic, as if they’re trying to feel as much of each other as they can in the small time they have to do it. 

But there’s something romantic in the way he stares into her eyes while he pumps his fingers into her, or the way she curls her hand around his cock and guides him inside, the way he sucks her nipple while he thrusts fast and hard making her see sparks.  


“Love you,” he says after he comes.  


She just kisses him again.


	3. Las Vegas/ Indianapolis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary: Leslie goes to Vegas to relax before her wedding, but it would be a lot easier if she wasn't constantly reminded of Ben. Later, Ben celebrates a victory, though it's short lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry this took a year to write. The next one should not take as long, I swear. Thank you everyone who pressured me into getting it done. I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks to Ashley, for being the world's cutest ladybug and beta and the very beautiful Funda, for her input on Turkish food.

“Okay, what do you want to do first?” Leslie asks Ann, flipping through her Las Vegas guide book with one hand while the other cuts into her waffle with her fork. “We could go visit the Hoover Dam or there’s the Ethel M Chocolate Factory tour or oh! We should go on the walking gourmet food tour.”  
  
“Don’t we have reservations tonight?” Ann asks before taking a bite of sausage.  
  
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Leslie flips the page in the book. “Look, The Mob Museum!”  
  
Ann laughs. “Let’s figure out what we’re going to do after we go back to our room.”  
  
“Good plan,” Leslie says, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wall behind Ann. They had woken up hungry and figuring it didn’t matter what they looked like, put on sweats and tied their hair back in messy ponytails before coming down to their hotel’s buffet.  
  
“Keno card?”  
  
“Thanks,” Leslie takes a card from the Keno girl and she and Ann start marking off the numbers as they eat.  
  
“I need more,” Leslie declares, sliding out of her seat. “Do you want anything?”  
  
Ann purses her lips in thought. “More berries.”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
She goes back to the buffet, grabbing another plate and a small bowl for Ann’s berries on her way. While she waits for the small line in front of her to move, she looks around the somewhat crowded restaurant. She takes in the the toddler being chased around a large table by her mom, only to be caught by her grandfather who scoops her up and kisses her honey brown curls and offers her a bite of his scrambled eggs. She then looks over at four men in a booth drinking coffee, one of them is holding a bag of ice on his eye. She continues to scan the restaurant, watching newlyweds show their wedding rings to anyone who look their way, the mother and teenage daughter who are laughing at a shared joke; she even smiles at the lonely looking businessman reading the Wall Street Journal.  
  
But then her eyes fall on a slim man wearing a red plaid shirt and she has to look away.  
  
It’s been three years since she last spoke to Ben Wyatt, but for some reason, getting him out of her head has been impossible. No matter how hard she tries, no matter who she dates, he’s there, silently existing in the back of her mind. And it doesn’t take much to bring him to the front either, the sight of plaid usually does it, as does Italian food or the mention of Boston. And while she doesn’t cry at the thought of what could have been anymore, she does still wonder where he is and what he’s doing and if he ever thinks about her.  
  
It's as she has these thoughts that her phone buzzes in her pocket. She takes it out and looks at it and sees, "What do you think about carrot soup as an appetizer?"  
  
"Why would anyone want to eat that?"  
  
"People eat vegetables, Leslie. We can't just serve waffles and cake at our wedding."  
  
Leslie rolls her eyes, even though she knows Justin can't see it. Personally she thinks a wedding where they just ate waffles and cake sounded great. But she supposes that when you marry a chef with his own show, you had to make certain sacrifices.  
  
"Fine, then," she answers, "Carrot soup sounds great." Then she turns her phone to silent and puts it back as the the line moves and her thoughts of Justin, Ben and all things not pertaining to food fall away as she steps forward until the line stops again. “This is ridiculous,” she says under her breath.  
  
“Tell me about it,” the woman behind her laughs. “I just want another croissant.”  
  
“I’m after the waffles, myself,” Leslie says, earning a smile from the woman. “I actually chose this hotel because they said this was the best buffet that wouldn’t break your budget.”  
  
“Oh I know. I’m here with my brother and he picked this place out for the same reason. He said he’d rather pay more for great dinners then breakfast.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know if I agree with that. I’d eat breakfast for every meal if I could.” She sticks her hand out. “I’m Leslie.”  
  
The woman takes it. “Stephanie.”  
  
“Nice to meet you.”  
  
Stephanie smiles again. “So who are you here with?”  
  
“My best friend, Ann. And you’re here with your brother?”  
  
“Yep. We meet here once a year for three days of sibling bonding.”  
  
Leslie’s never had any brothers or sisters so she doesn’t know what it’s like, but she imagines that it’s nice to have someone to share that kind of bond, so she smiles.  
  
“What about you?” The woman asks as the line moves. “Any brothers or sisters?”  
  
“Sadly, no.”  
  
They talk some more as the line moves, deciding what Hogwarts house they’d be in until they finally reach the food. Figuring she’s already up there and how long it took, Leslie grabs some bacon and a piece of quiche lorraine along with her waffles. Stephanie grins, following Leslie’s lead, taking more pastries from the basket than just the croissant. After Leslie’s done, she smiles at Stephanie, her hands too full to wave and then she goes back to Ann.  
  
“Thanks,” Ann says, popping a raspberry into her mouth. “Is the line long?”  
  
“Yes. But I met a nice woman.” Leslie looks around to try to spot Stephanie but doesn’t see her. “Oh, she must be on the other side.” She shrugs, taking a bite of bacon.  
  
“I saw a cute guy walk by earlier,” Ann tells her.  
  
“Oh?” Leslie asks, suddenly excited to hear about a guy who might have caught Ann’s eye. “How cute?”  
  
“Like a dark haired Paul Walker.”  
  
“Ohhhh.” Leslie nods, even though she doesn’t agree with Ann’s taste in men, she does approve of Ann finding happiness, even if it’s just for a short while. “New plan. If you see him, you have to say hi.”  
  
Ann laughs at Leslie’s suggestion. “Deal.”  
  
~  
  
They end up at the Hoover Dam. Leslie’s already read every book she could find, so instead of taking the tour, she and Ann have their own little tour. She can tell Ann’s not as interested as she is, but she listens while Leslie babbles about the history and random facts about the dam. Eventually, Leslie gets tired of hearing her own voice and they end up just watching the water flow. It's loud, so loud she can barely hear herself think.  
  
"Hey, we should hit up the gift shop before we go, I want a President Hoover bobble head," a man says behind her.  
  
She knows that voice. She turns around, but there's no one there. It's just Ann.  
  
“Leslie?”  
  
She must have been hearing things. “Sorry.”  
  
“No problem,” Ann says, “I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted. Let’s go back to the hotel and lay out by the pool until we have to get ready for our reservation.”  
  
Leslie lets out a breath and looks out over the dam for one more moment. “Ann, you are a beautiful, ingenious llama. That is a great idea. Let’s go.”

She calls Justin the moment they get back to the hotel room. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's fine," he says. It annoys her slightly that he doesn't apologize as well, but she lets it go. "I'm glad you called."  
  
Leslie sits on her bed. Ann's in the bathroom. "Oh yeah?"  
  
"Yeah. I have to go to Istanbul for two weeks."  
  
She runs her hand over her face. "We're getting married in two weeks."  
  
"I'll be back in time for the wedding," Justin promises. "I'll bring you back something."  
  
"Great," Leslie says.  
  
"Gotta go. Love you."  
  
"Love you too," she says, to a busy tone. She stares at her phone of a second before throwing it across the bed. It's fine. Everything is fine. Justin's job takes him  
all over. It's...it is what it is. She'll do all the last minute wedding coordination without him. Everything's pretty much done anyway.  
  
She's not going to worry about it. She's going to put on her bathing suit and go lay by the pool and hope the sun doesn't burn her. And she's not going to think about how her fiance is now on his way to Turkey. And she's really not going to think about how she wishes he was Ben.  
  
She's not going to think about Ben.

“Crap on a pogo stick!” Leslie says, looking through her pool bag awhile later. “I forgot my book. I’ll be right back.”  
  
“Okay.” Ann’s already lying down on her chaise, eyes closed and enjoying the desert sun. Figuring she’s just going straight to their room and back, Leslie ties her sarong around her waist but doesn’t bother with her shoes. The roof’s concrete is hot on her feet but there’s enough wet spots to calm the burn as she makes her way to the elevators. A man steps off the elevator and smiles at her and she gives him a polite, but disinterested smile in return before getting in the elevator and pushing the button for the fifth floor. The doors close and she watches the digital numbers descend until they stop at the eighth floor.  
  
A man with messy brown hair and a slim physique steps in and for a moment her heart stops, but then he looks at her and smiles.  
  
His eyes are green.  
  
Leslie lets out the breath she’s been holding. “What floor?”  
  
“Lobby, please.”  
  
She pushes the button for him and then leans back against the wall until the elevator stops at her floor.  
  
When she returns back to the pool she does her best to push all thoughts of Ben out of her head. She’s there to have fun with the greatest friend and nurse in the world before her wedding, not think about some guy she hasn’t heard from in three years.  
  
It would be a lot easier if she wasn’t constantly reminded of him.

According to the restaurant's website, their dress code is business to black tie, depending on the time of day. So they get dolled up in their best cocktail dresses, curl each other’s hair and put on their favorite jewelry before heading out to the front entrance of the hotel where a valet hails a taxi for them.  
  
However, when they get there, it’s with severe annoyance that they find most of the patrons are wearing t-shirts and jeans and they are completely overdressed.  
  
“Yeah, this feels about right,” Ann says, smiling awkwardly at a woman who raises her eyebrow at her.  
  
“I’m going to go check in,” Leslie says, refusing to feel subconscious about her clothes. It’s not her fault she’s the only one adhering to the dress code. Unless the code changed and no one bothered to change the information on the website. Really this was the problem with the internet these days.  
  
“It’ll be ten minutes,” The hostess tells her.  
  
Leslie resists the urge to stick her tongue out at the hostess and turns to Ann. “It’ll be a few minutes.”  
  
“I heard," Ann says, but Leslie isn’t listening to her. Instead she’s watching as the door opens behind her and a man with brown eyes and a windbreaker walks in with his girlfriend.  
  
Leslie groans. “Ugh. This is ridiculous.”  
  
“Leslie, it’s fine, so we’re a little overdressed, it’s fun!”  
  
“No,” Leslie sighs, “not that.”  
  
“Then what?”  
  
“I keep seeing Ben. Guys that look like Ben. Everywhere I go, Ben, Ben, Ben!”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Leslie spins around to toward the voice, disappointment washing over her when she sees a guy with greying hair who looks nothing like her Ben staring at her questioningly. “Not you, sir,” she says as Ann pulls her away. It’s completely ridiculous, still having a thing for a guy who for as far as she knows is married with two kids and dog and a cat. She bets it's a Beagle. Ben would totally own a Beagle.  
  
"Are you okay?" Ann asks.  
  
"What, yeah, I'm great." It's a lie she hopes Ann doesn't see through. She's not okay. She's the exact opposite of okay. But if Ann senses the truth, she doesn't say anything. She does, however, rub Leslie's back and that does wonders to calm her down.  
  
It’s another thirty minutes before they’re seated, but when they are it’s with apologies and a complimentary appetizer of spinach and artichoke dip served with toasted sourdough bread. It’s rich and creamy and a little spicy from the pieces of jalapeno peppers but it’s a welcome addition to the standard spinach and artichoke dip restaurants usually serve.  
  
Leslie takes her time looking at the menu. “Do you know what you’re getting?”  
  
“The chicken club, probably,” Ann says, frowning at the menu. “You?”  
  
“I’m not sure. The reviews all say the peppercorn filet is the best. I’m just trying to decide what I want to go with it."  
  
“If I may make a suggestion,” the waiter says, standing so stiff Leslie thinks his back is going to break, “the sauteed brussel sprouts are good.”  
  
Leslie stares at him. “Do you have anything that isn’t gross?”  
  
He looks down at her. “If vegetables aren’t to your liking, might I suggest the homemade macaroni and cheese. It’s very popular with children.”  
  
It’s Ann’s look that stops Leslie from tearing their server a new one. “Fine. I will have the peppercorn filet, medium rare with the fried apples.”  
  
“And you ma’am?” He asks Ann, who orders the chicken club and fries. He leaves and Leslie shares a look with Ann.  
  
"I don't know about you, but this place isn't getting anything higher than three stars when I review it on Yelp."  
  
Ann laughs. "I don't know, this dip is pretty good."

She wakes up at four. Ann’s sleeping in the bed next to her and Leslie doesn’t want to turn on the light or tv and risk waking her up, so she slips out of her bed, quietly puts on a pair of jeans, a shirt and some flip flops, writes Ann a note in case she wakes up before she gets back and goes to take a walk. She ends up in front of the Bellagio fountains, watching as the water dances to "As Time Goes By." She sees a someone walk up beside her out of the corner of her eye but doesn’t think too much of it, content to just watch and sing along.  
  
“Of all the fountains in all the world," the man next to her says.  
  
Leslie looks around. It’s just them and a Korean couple there, and she doubts he’s talking about them, so she turns to ask him what he’s talking about and everything just stops.  
  
"Hi, Leslie."  
  
"You're really here," she says, unable to believe it. He's been haunting her but here he is, in the flesh, looking older but better than he did the last time she saw him. He smiles, as if to say 'I'm really here,' but it's soft and sad and it makes her want to ask if he still loves her. "I'm getting married," she says without thinking, as a reminder to herself not to kiss his face off.  
  
"I know," he says, his smile gone. She waits a beat, wondering if Ben will say something, anything, about how she shouldn't marry Justin, but he doesn't and she knows he never will, even if he does still care about her.  
  
"Oh. Well, um, what are you doing here?" she asks, "Are you here with your girlfriend?" She actually hopes he has someone. That way, she can convince herself he's moved on and finally move on herself.  
  
"No, I'm with my sister. And I'm completely single."  
  
"Oh, sibling bonding?"  
  
"Yeah," he says, giving her that how did you know smile before he looks back at the fountain, which is now dancing to Van Morrison's "Dancing in the Moonlight."  
  
"How did you know I'm getting married?"  
  
"I live in Indianapolis. His face is everywhere." He rolls his eyes a little, but Leslie doesn't blame him. Justin's celebrity can be rather annoying. It's impossible to just have a quiet date alone with him without paparazzi or his fans wanting a picture.  
  
"Ahh," Leslie says, "Are they still referring me as 'that blonde pastry chef from Pawnee?'"  
  
"They are."  
  
"Well, at least they have my job right, right?"  
  
"Something like that," Ben says, looking at his watch. "I should go. It was great seeing you again, Leslie. I hope," he pauses, "I hope everything works out for you. Congratulations." He leans in, kissing Leslie in the corner of her mouth and then he walks away.  
  
She doesn't chase after him.  
  
She doesn't watch him go.  
  
Instead she goes back up to her room, sees Ann fast asleep and lays back down. Somehow, even though her mind is going crazy, she ends up waking up again when the alarm goes off at seven.

Leslie does her best to enjoy the next two days with Ann. She goes on the chocolate tour, she visits the mob museum, she brainstorms potential menu items for the restaurant, she eats her weight in pastries and gets a slight sunburn from laying out by the pool, but she can't quite escape the thought that Ben is also there. Even if she doesn't run into him again, just knowing is enough.  
  
"Leslie, are you okay? You haven't touched your plate."  
  
Leslie looks down at her chocolate torte. "I'm in love."  
  
"Of course you're in love," Ann says, "you're getting married."  
  
"No. I mean, I'm in love with Ben."  
  
Ann's beaming smile fades to something much sadder and sympathetic. "Leslie, this sounds like cold feet."  
  
Leslie clutches her fork and looks down at her torte. "Yeah," she says as Ann grabs her hand and squeezes.  
  
"It's perfectly normal to be nervous."  
  
"I know." Ann's right. Even if she hadn't run into Ben, she would still feel nervous about getting married. And whatever her feelings for Ben, it doesn't change the  
fact that Justin's the one who wants to marry her and despite whatever flaws he might have, he's going to be a good husband.  
  
"But," Ann says, "you don't have to marry him."  
  
Leslie looks up, meeting Ann's eyes. "What?"  
  
"I'm saying, as your maid of honor and best friend, you don't have to marry him. I'm not saying you should go and find Ben and tell him you love him-"  
  
Leslie laughs. "That would be crazy."  
  
Ann smiles before continuing. "But you don't have to marry Justin. But whatever you do, I support you."  
  
It's moments like this where Leslie's grateful to the universe for giving her Ann Perkins.

The next two weeks go by in a flash. It's non stop phone calls and last minute changes, it's having to redo the seating arrangements because her cousin decide to bring her boyfriend, it's Justin calling from Istanbul at two in the morning to say they should serve something called Kokoreç, which he insists on because, "you haven't lived until you've had it." She looks it up. It looks like something Ron would eat, but she's pretty sure she can do without it.  
  
She even makes her own wedding cake.  
  
But the next thing Leslie knows, she's standing in front of the doors leading into the chapel. Ann's behind her, looking like the most beautiful starfish in the world.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
She wishes her dad was still alive.  
  
She wishes she was getting married in Pawnee.  
  
More than that, she wishes the pinched feeling in her gut would go away, that the voice inside her head saying "Stop," would actually stop and more than anything, she wishes the man on the other side of those doors was Ben.  
  
She takes a deep breath. "I'm ready." She's not ready. Not at all.  
  
But the doors slowly open and the string quartet starts. Ann and the other bridesmaids go on in first along with Justin's best man and groomsmen until it's finally Leslie's turn. The music changes and Leslie, gripping her bouquet, takes a step.  
  
And then just as she's about to take her next one, she hears Ann's voice in her head saying she doesn't have to marry Justin and just like that, she takes a deep breath and another step.  
  
Then she turns around and runs.

*  
  
Ben's putting on his chef's coat when he hears a knock at his door. Once, then several times in rapid succession as Ben yells he's coming. The knocking stops just as Ben reaches for the doorknob.  
  
He's dreaming. He fell and hit his head and now he's in a coma and dreaming about Leslie Knope showing up at his apartment twenty minutes before he's supposed to go to work on her wedding day.  
  
Wearing her wedding gown.  
  
Oh god, he really is John Cusack.  
  
He says nothing. He can't find the ability to speak. The last time he saw her was bad enough, but this? Now? He can't deal with it.  
  
"Can I come in, please?"  
  
It's the way her voice shakes that brings Ben back to earth. "Of course."  
  
Leslie gives him a grateful smile as she steps inside. "I'm glad you're home."  
  
"Uh, yeah. I was actually on my way to work."  
  
"Oh." She's wearing her dress. The bottom of it is wet and dirty and her make up is smeared. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't, I can go."  
  
"No," he says, blocking her way out. "Stay. You can stay. Um, you can use my shower and I have a t shirt and some sweat pants you can wear and I'll make you  
something and have one of our bus boys bring it to you. Okay?"  
  
She blinks, and tears fall from her eyes. "Okay."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Can I use your phone?"  
  
"You can do whatever you want."  
  
She throws her arms around him. He closes her eyes, breathing her in and hugs her back. He should feel bad, for holding a woman this close on the day she's supposed to be getting married to another man, but he doesn't. He doesn't feel guilty at all.  
  
"Ben?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You smell like fish."  
  
Ben laughs. The need to kiss her is as strong as ever. But if he kisses her, he won't stop. "I know. I gotta go."  
  
"Okay." She lets him go but all he wants to do is stay.

1980:  
  
Ben's five years old when his dad teaches him out to clean a fish for the first time. It's not until he's eight and able to hold the knife steady that he's able to actually able to clean one himself, but he watches intently, taking in his father's instructions and repeats every step back to him. So when he does it, and doesn't mess it up like Henry did the first time he cleaned a fish on his own, his father beams proudly and declares him a natural.  
  
By the time he's in middle school, every fish they catch is cleaned and filleted by Ben. He doesn't even think about it anymore.  
  
But then one night his dad comes home drunk after having another run in with Ben's mom and he dumps a cooler of fish next to Ben's bed. "Rise up, Benny! Get to cleaning."  
  
Ben winces at the smell. "Dad, it's-"- he looks at the clock on his dresser-" 2:30 in the morning. I'm sleeping."  
  
"I said clean the fish." His dad's voice is clear and sharp and there's no arguing with him when he uses that tone. Ben slowly sits up and takes the cooler down to the kitchen.  
  
The first few fish go fine. It's not Ben's best work, but they're not completely bad. But then around the tenth fish, he starts drifting off again and he misses the skin of the fish and instead slices right through his palm.  
  
It's not the pain or the sight of his own blood that bothers him. It's that his dad is passed out upstairs in his room and Ben was actually dumb enough to start cleaning the fucking fish instead of just waiting for him to fall asleep and go back to bed.  
  
He drives himself to the hospital.  
  
He's grounded for two weeks for taking the car without permission.

Thirteen years later, a professor at culinary school asks if anyone's ever filleted a fish before. Ben doesn't want to say yes, but seeing no one else raise their hand, he raises his before he can stop himself.  
  
"Come up here, show us."  
  
It's a basic white fish, nothing special, but it's small and delicate. Still, Ben's able to slice it into paper thin strips.  
  
"Wow," the professor says, looking at Ben's work. "You're a natural."  
  
He feels like he's eight years old again.

By the time Ben gets off work, he's exhausted. The restaurant had been busy from the moment Ben arrived and hadn't let up until an hour until closing. So much so that he's unable to make Leslie anything until then.  
  
He debates calling her, but she probably wouldn't answer his phone. He wants to make her something good, because if anyone deserves a nice meal, it's Leslie, but he doesn't want to risk anything getting cold, so he makes her a sandwich with prosciutto, fresh roma tomatoes, homemade mozzarella and a garlic mayo.  
He takes a slice of chocolate cake out of the fridge, before realizing she might not want cake today, he puts it back. Besides, he's pretty sure Leslie can make a better chocolate cake than Sheryl.

When he gets home, she's still there. She's on his couch, using his remote to channel surf. "There's nothing on," she says, throwing the remote down. She gets up and he can see she's wearing his favorite t shirt and a pair of boxers. It's too much for him to handle.  
  
"I made you a sandwich, sorry I didn't get it to you sooner but we were really busy."  
  
Leslie just smiles and takes the box from him. "It's fine, I haven't really been hungry until now," she says. "Honesty you could have made me a PB&J and I would have been happy."  
  
"Well, I do have the technology," Ben says, walking over to open his fridge to show her all the jars of jams and jellies he has in his door. "It's kind of my favorite food."  
  
Her eyes grow wide and it takes Ben a second to make a decision. "You know, that sandwich is probably best the next day, so if you want I could make you a peanut butter and jelly instead?"  
  
She just nods, once.  
  
"So what do you like? I've got grape, strawberry, raspberry, peach, orange, apricot, blackberry, pepper-"  
  
"Strawberry."  
  
"Crunchy or creamy?"  
  
"Crunchy."  
  
He smiles at her, takes out the Italian white bread from his bread basket and quickly makes the sandwich. He gives it to her and watches as she takes a bite, closing her eyes and groaning. Ben's not sure if it's because she's probably more hungry than she thought or if it's really that good, but watching her devour it is a better compliment than any five star review.  
  
He puts the sandwich he made for her earlier in the fridge, knowing at the very least, he will eat it.  
  
"So," he says after she's done, "do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Leslie closes her eyes and lets out a soft sob. He pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her.  
  
"I'm sorry. You don't have to talk," he says, rubbing her back. He breathes her in. She smells like his shampoo and body wash, but underneath it is a scent that's all Leslie. She still fits perfectly in his arms, and he never wants to let her go.  
  
"It's okay." She pulls away and looks down at her shirt. "Oh no, I got your shirt all messy."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"It'll stain," she says, "I don't want to ruin your favorite shirt." Before he can stop her, she peels the shirt off.  
  
"Good lord."  
  
"Do you have stain remover or tonic water?"  
  
How is Ben supposed to think when Leslie's standing in his kitchen without a shirt on? "Laundry room, that way," he says, pointing down the hall.  
  
"Okay. You um, should clean up," she says, "now you smell like fish and garlic."  
  
"I did make a lot of tilapia scampi tonight."

Ben showers and changes while Leslie works on his shirt. While he appreciates Leslie's concern, he's more worried about her. That being said, as the night progresses, it gets harder and harder not to kiss her.  
  
He compromises by touching her. He puts his arm around her while they watch some dumb action movie that neither of them seem to be very into and strokes her neck with his thumb.  
  
Ben tries several times to bring the wedding up, but she evades the question every time. He doesn't blame her, but at the same time he wishes she would talk about it, just so he knows where he stands. At the same time though, whatever Leslie's reasons, Ben can't help but feel victorious.  
  
She yawns, and feeling tired himself, Ben turns off the TV.  
  
"Okay," he says, "let's get you to bed."  
  
"Where are you sleeping?"  
  
"The couch."  
  
"No, stay with me."  
  
He closes his eyes. He shouldn't. It's too risky. But then she adds a "Please," and he knows he has no choice.  
  
He swallows. "Okay."

It takes Ben awhile to fall asleep. Leslie doesn't have any trouble, seeming to fall into slumber the moment he turns off the lights, but Ben's eyes refuse to shut, afraid that when he opens them again, she'll be gone. She burrows closer to him, pressing her body against his.  
  
Her skin is hot, but not feverish. He'd forgotten how much body heat she radiated.

In the morning, she makes him a bacon and egg scramble. "These aren't as good as Ron's," she says.  
  
"Who's Ron?"  
  
"My partner. We're opening up a restaurant together. All breakfast food except on Saturday evenings when we serve steaks and ribs and various other types of animal flesh. His words."  
  
"That sounds amazing," Ben says, taking a bite. "This is amazing."  
  
"Thank you." She smiles softly and they eat in silence until they're both done, then Ben washes the dishes while she dries.  
  
"Do you work today?"  
  
Ben turns off the water. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. You know I don't mind you being here-"  
  
"But you do."  
  
"Leslie."  
  
She shakes her head. "No, Ben, it's fine. I mean it is a little weird, me being here like this."  
  
"Okay yeah, it's weird," Ben admits, "but can I be honest with you?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I'd rather you be here now and it be weird than for you to be married to-" he's about to say him when she smashes her lips into his. He doesn't know what about what he said made her want to kiss him, but honestly he doesn't care.  
  
He picks her up and places her on the counter as she reaches for his shirt. He takes hers off too, then the bra, flinging them across the room. Their mouths meet again, pulling and tugging as their hands explore each other's bodies. He kisses down her neck, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin, cups her breasts with his hands and massages them, making her arch her back and moan.  
  
"Ben, please."  
  
"Tell me what you want."  
  
"Fuck me." Leslie gasps.  
  
"Okay," he says, pulling her pants down. He allows himself a moment to take in her body. She's fuller now, hips wider, stomach slightly softer but still flat, breasts fuller. He notices she's looking at him the same way, noting all the differences from the last time. She reaches for his pants and pulls them down.  
He shakes his legs a bit so they fall to his ankles, then he hooks Leslie's legs around his waist, runs the tip of his cock up and down her outline to feel how wet she is and then pushes in until he's buried to the hilt. Her eyes widen, her mouth drops open and she gasps. He waits a moment for her to adjust and then, pushing his fingers into her hips, he pulls out only to slam right back into her. She screams, digs her fingers into his shoulder blades as he repeats the motion, building up speed with each thrust.  
He presses his mouth against hers, kisses her in time with his movements. Wanting to be deeper inside her, Ben lifts her legs higher.  
  
"Did Justin ever fuck you like this?"  
  
"No." She's crying.  
  
"Good." He wipes a tear off her cheek and kisses her again, feeling her muscles begin to pulse around his cock.  
  
He can't help but think of the last time they did this, what he said to her. He'd been young then, stupid, but he'd meant every word.  
  
And now, after all this time, he still means it.  
  
Only this time he keeps it to himself.  
  
"You can cum on me if you want," she says, her voice harsh and breathless. Ben bites her neck in response, the thought of covering Leslie almost too much. When the moment comes, he pulls out and watches as it lands on her tits, her stomach, even her neck and chin. He stares for a moment, taking her in, needing to memorize this moment forever, sure that there's nothing more beautiful than seeing Leslie covered in his cum. It makes him want to get his camera, so he can Kodak the moment. Instead, he wipes the bit on her chin with his thumb and pushes it into her mouth, making her suck it off.  
  
He helps her to her feet and takes her hand, leading her to his shower. He means just to wash himself off her, but as he's wiping her off, she falls against him, crying. He circles his arms around her, kisses her head.  
  
"I couldn't do it," she says, "I thought if I did, I could, I don't know, stop, but I realized the moment I saw him next to the priest there was no way I could."  
  
Nothing she's saying makes any sense, but he just urges her to continue while he rubs her back, but then she leans up and glares at him.  
  
"Why did you tell me to marry him?"  
  
"I didn't."  
  
"You said congratulations. That's close enough."  
  
"I'm sorry. I should have said no, Leslie, don't get married to that asshole, marry me instead."  
  
"So why didn't you?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
They stare each other for a moment before their lips meet again.

She stays for the rest of the day. They cuddle on the couch, trade restaurant horror stories and battle scars. When she asks about the scar on his hand, he tells her it was from cleaning fish, but he doesn't tell her the full story. They split the tomato and mozzarella sandwich, sure enough it's better the next day. They have sex all over his apartment, including against his glass window where everyone can see. But it's during the commercial break before final Jeopardy that Leslie says, "Do you believe in soulmates, Ben?"  
  
"Not until I met you."  
  
She sighs. "Me too." She looks down at where their hands are joined. "I have to go, don't I?"  
  
Ben closes his eyes. Her leaving is the last thing he wants, but it's for the best. "Yeah."  
  
Leslie doesn't move though, not until she they're both declared victorious by Alex Trebek. "I'll go call Ann."  
  
Ben just sits on the couch and holds his head in his hands.

"So you mean to tell me that Leslie, the Leslie, woman of your dreams Leslie, was actually there and you let her go?"

Ben sighs. Letting Stephanie get him drunk enough that he would talk about Leslie was one of the biggest regrets of his life. Especially now that she wouldn't let him forget about it. And why did he just tell her Leslie was there? What was wrong with him?

"It's complicated. She just ran out on her wedding. You don't ask out a girl who just ran out on her wedding." Ben knows that much.

"You do when she clearly wants you to!"

"What?"

Stephanie exhales on the other end of the phone. He bets she's rolling her eyes too. "Did it ever occur to you the reason she didn't get married to this other guy was because she'd rather be with you?"

"Huh?"

"She could have married him. She could have run out of her wedding and gone back to where she lives-"

"Pawnee-"

"She could have gone to Greece. But instead, she went to you."

Ben looks out the window just as a kid on a bicycle crosses the street, flanked by several of his friends. "She knew I lived here. I was the closest option."

"And how did she know that?"

"Uh, I told her."

"When?"

"Um, in Vegas. I sort of ran into her there."

There's a long stretch of silence, too long really. Ben worries she's hung up on him. "Steph?"

"Ben."

His phone beeps with another call. He looks at the screen. "Hey, Steph, that's work."

"We're not done with this," she says, "love you."

"Love you too."

He hangs up and switches over. "This is Ben."

"Can you come in, we need you," his boss says, he can hear his co-worker Juan yell about needing sausages in the background

"Yeah, I'll be right there."

He has nowhere else he needs to be.


End file.
